Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Libya and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Jerry Gold Smith to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Nik Kershaw,
Archie Shepp,
Prince Buster,
Severed Heads,
Dorothy Ashby,
Accadde A,
Suicide,
Arthur Verocai,
The Music Machine,
Spandau Ballet,
Josef K,
Cecil Taylor,
The Associates,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rotary Connection,
Roxette,
The J.B.'s,
Television,
Thompson Twins,
Erasure,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Harry Pussy,
Glenn Branca,
Massinfluence,
The Searchers,
Radio Birdman,
Marshall Jefferson,
Audionom,
Harpers Bizarre,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
kango's stein massive,
Circle Jerks,
Trumans Water,
Basic Channel,
Nick Fraelich,
Lalo Schifrin,
Neu!,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Residents,
The Buckinghams,
Max Romeo,
Magma,
Robert Wyatt,
The Doobie Brothers,
Terry Callier,
The Victims,
Buzzcocks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Robert Görl,
Aloha Tigers,
Loose Ends,
MDC,
Lou Reed,
The Offenders,
Joe Smooth,
Peter and Kerry,
Radiohead,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cybotron,
The Misunderstood,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.